By Pablo Neruda

Never an illness, nor an absence

of grandeur, no,

nothing is able to kill the best in us,

that kindness, dear sir, we are afflicted with:

beautiful is the flower of man, his conduct,

and every door opens on the beautiful truth

and never hides treacherous whispers.

I always gained something from making myself better,

better than I am, better than I was,

the most subtle citation:

to recover some lost petal

of the sadness I inherited:

to search once more for the light that sings

inside of me, the unwavering light.

1 Comment on “Featured Poem: Never an Illness, Nor an Absence

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